Enjoy! ^_^
Chapter 4
"Ok, I'll take the blame on that one." Seth announced, sitting in the backseat of the gang's car as Roman drove them away from the motel.
"Yeah you bet your ass you will." Dean agreed, nodding.
"You take the blame, and you're buying dinner." Roman added.
"It was an honest mistake!" Rollins cried.
"It's not how you find a killer." Reigns said matter-of-factly.
"Oh, you know how to find a killer?"
"Yeah! I bet I do. Yeah, you know what? I got an idea." the Samoan announced, touching a button to contact on his navigation system.
"What are you doing?" Seth and Dean asked at once.
Then, a voice with an Indian accent came through the navigation system: "Good evening, Mr. Reigns. Thank you for contacting Nav Guide. My name is Gregory. How may I be of service this evening?"
"Yeah, Gregory, me and my buddies are looking for the most dangerous bar in this city. Can you help us out please?" he asked.
"We're going to dinner." Dean reminded him.
"Yeah, that's a good idea." Seth smiled at Roman's plan.
"Sorry?"
"Yeah, we're looking for a bar filled with you know, criminals, low-life thugs, hard-core shit heads. What have you got for us?" he continued.
"We're going to a fucking restaurant right now, come on!" Dean hissed.
"I'm afraid our listings are not organized by danger, sir. I do see there's an Applebee's three blocks from your current location."
"Perfect."
"No, not really helpful. They're not exactly the kind of shit heads we need. Anything else?" Roman asked.
"Well, I could direct you to a neighborhood with a greatest number of carjackings."
"Now we're thinking outside the box." he smiled.
"Yeah!" Seth exclaimed.
"I want to go to DINNER." Dean whined.
"Very good, sir. You may wish to lock your doors."
Moments later, Roman's car drove down and entered a depressed-looking block. Dean, most of all, wasn't amused one bit.
"This is worse than getting pissed on!" Ambrose exclaimed, crossing his arms.
"No. Shh-shh!" Roman shushed him.
"I'd rather be pissed on!"
"Jeez!" he muttered, looking around the area.
"You weren't kidding, Gregory, this is uh...this is a bad part of town." Seth agreed, looking out the window.
Dean called, "Gregory, can you stay on the line? You still there, right?"
"I'm still here, sir."
"Just keep uh...keep us on the line."
Seth leaned forward and chuckled. "I'm always curious about these things, but is your real name Gregory?"
"Uh...no, sir. My real name is Atmanand."
"How do you get Gregory from that?" asked Reigns.
"Oh, Gregory was assigned to me by Nav Guide."
"Why don't they let you use your real name?" asked Dean.
"They say many Americans find our real names hard to pronounce."
"Hey, you know what? I'm not gonna play by their rules anymore. From now on I'm gonna call you Amanand." Roman replied.
"At-manand." Dean corrected.
Seth raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
Roman pronounced incorrectly, "Emanand."
"Atmenand." Ambrose replied.
"Atmanand."
"Aminand." Seth chimed in.
"I'm gonna call you Gregory, cause that name's a fucking nightmare, buddy." Roman finished.
"You hurt his feelings." Seth replied as they pulled up into a grimy-looking South-Central street and stopped in front of a dingy bar.
"No, I did not." he replied.
"You have arrived at your destination, sir."
"All right, well thanks, Gregory."
"You're welcome."
The guys soon stepped out of the car and looked around warily while loud rap music blasted in the background.
"All right. All right, here we go!" Roman smiled, while Seth and Dean weren't smiling one bit.
"This is a really fucking bad idea." Ambrose announced.
"No, this is a great idea!" he exclaimed.
"Oh what, you just gonna yell out 'Anybody here kill people for money?!'"
"No!"
"That's a terrible plan." Seth agreed.
"No, no. Follow me, I got this." Reigns announced, leading the way.
"What are you doing?"
Nevertheless, the two followed their friend in the bar, while everyone else gave them looks as they made their way through. Roman played it cool while a buff looking guy passed them by. "Bowflex?" he greeted. A hispanic guy passed them by next. "Hola." Finally, they reached the bar. "Hey. My man...hey, uh...does anyone here kill people for money?"
"Roman!" Dean hissed.
"What the fuck you just say?" the bartender demanded.
"Oh, no! It's not a race thing. Uh...I believe that society discriminates and disenfranchises you folks." Reigns tried to explain.
"'You folks?'" he repeated, offended.
"Fucking subtle!" Ambrose cried, glaring Reigns' way.
The man continued, "Man, I'm a small business owner. Won't have you call me disenfranchise..."
"Well, not you in particular. I guess that..." Roman trailed off, obviously too flustered at this point to stop the words coming out of his mouth.
"Oh, right! You mean all black people?"
"Yes. No! I-I mean-!"
"No!" Seth cried, terrified.
"I'm gonna be in the fuckin car." Dean muttered, turning around while Roman used a strong grip to keep him there.
Meanwhile, the bartender quickly picked up a baseball bat.
Seth's eyes widened. "Whoa! A baseball bat."
Roman nervously looked around. "Uh...I didn't mean to offend you. I'm...I'm sorry if that's what happened here, okay? If you knew me better, you'd know my heart was in the right place."
"In about five seconds your heart gonna be in the wrong place." the bartender huffed, while Seth hid behind his friends.
"4...3...2...let's roll." Rollins cried, dragging Roman and Dean away before the guy could attack them. As they rushed out though, one man in particular slightly turned around and glanced their way.
Meanwhile, the three rushed outside, where Dean reached the car first. "Don't even say it, Roman, don't even say it."
"I know, I know."
"Just hit the-hit the fucking button and let us in the fucking car."
"Guys, I dunno, should we just quit..." Seth began.
"Yo, yo." a voice said, startling the three. They turned to find a cool-dressed young man approaching them, the same one who eyed them down in the bar. "I think I can help you boys." He gestured for them to follow him into the alley beside the bar. Roman and Seth moved to follow him.
"Here we go..." Seth began.
"Not interested, thank you." Dean waved him off. Seeing as he was now left alone though, he rolled his eyes and decided to follow them, anyway.
"Okay, we're following a strange guy into a dark corner." Rollins announced.
Once they were alone, he asked, "I heard you're looking for someone to take care of some business?"
"Yep." Roman said in that deep voice of his, crossing his arms.
"Uh...are you a business man or somethin'?" asked Dean.
"Yeah. Motherfucker Jones."
He shook his hand. "What's that?"
"Motherfucker... Jones."
"Your first name is...Motherfucker?!" Seth cried, shocked.
"Not 'Motherfucker', MothafuckAH."
"Got it." he nodded quickly and meekly.
"You say 'E-R', I say 'A-H'."
"Cool name." he agreed. "Yeah. Is that like on your birth certificate?" he smiled nervously.
Roman elbowed Seth to shut him up.
"No, goofball. My real name is Dean."
Dean blinked while Seth and Roman glanced towards him, smirking. "Got my first name, huh? Hm. Dean Jones. That's the same name of the actor in Herbie The Love Bug."
"Yeah, he's not gonna know who that is." Roman announced.
"I know who he is, bitch!" MF snapped.
He quickly looked down. "Sorry."
"I can't walk around this fuckin' neighborhood with that Disney-assed name!"
Ambrose was about to say something, but decided to just shut up and pout.
"Right." Seth and Roman nodded along.
"Huh." Ambrose muttered. "So uh, how did you get the nickname Motherfucker?"
"When I was a kid I snuck into my mother's bedroom."
"Uh-oh!" Rollins exclaimed.
"She was laying there, naked."
"Dean." Roman began.
"Huh?" asked Ambrose.
"Not you, him."
"Ok."
MF continued, "She'd been drinking all night."
"We get it." Dean nodded, not wanting to hear the rest.
Seth already began to visualize it. "Yuck."
"And I snuck up behind her."
"Aah!" Dean winced.
"And I slipped my fingers...into her purse."
"Purse. He said purse." Roman said quickly.
"And I took her money. The whole week's pay. I really fucked her over and that's how I got the name, Motherfucker Jones." he finished.
Reigns eyed him down quizzlngly. "You know, they should call you Motherfucker Over-Jones, to avoid confusion. Right?
"What's the confusion?" he demanded, threateningly.
"There's no confusion." Seth smiled innocently and said quickly.
"We're gonna get back on track." Roman nodded.
"All right, so sir, we each have a boss...uh, that you know, there's three bosses that would be best if those bosses, maybe were no longer..." Dean began.
Roman finished for him. "...no longer around, anymore."
He nodded in agreement. "You know?"
"We...want...them...killed?" Seth slowly said over them both.
"Got the cheese?" asked MF.
Roman smirked along, not really knowing what the hell he was talking about. "We got the cheese. What kind of cheese are you thinkin'?"
"What, is it three hits?"
"Yeah."
He paused to calculate the cost in his head. "...Thirty large."
"Whoa!" Reigns cried.
"Hungry, are we?" Ambrose exclaimed. "That's a lot of cheese."
"We don't have that much cheese." he muttered along.
Seth spoke up next. "Here's an idea, if you killed two could we get the third one to hold the cheese?"
"It's no negotiations. Thirty large, or nothing."
"Well, it's...it's more cheese than we've fuckin' got." Ambrose replied.
"Okay, then. It's five large now!"
Sounding way more reasonable, the three exchanged looks and then nodded. Roman announced, "Then...we are in. We're in."
"I mean come on, it'd be awful if it was tracable back to us." Dean muttered.
"I don't even know your names!"
"That's true."
"This is true." Reigns agreed. "This is Seth. This is..."
"Don't say my name!" Seth cried.
"Shut up!" agreed Dean.
"Listen, bring the money here tomorrow, I'll take care of the rest."
"You want the cash in something specific? Like a shoe box, duffel bag, something like that?" Roman asked.
"Just be here with the fucking money."
He nodded. "Yeah."
"...Put it in a briefcase."
"All righty then. Thanks for your time. Here we go." Dean led his cohorts off as MF walked the other way.
"Hey, is the briefcase coming out of your end?" Seth called after him.
"Shut up, Seth." the boys replied.
So the next day, the plan was on to grab as much cash as they possibly could, while the boys continued to endure their nightmarish jobs. Dean was at his desk at work, looking over his cubicle wall and his eyes narrowed as he watched Laurinaitis directing a workman who stenciled the words "Senior Vice President of Sales" below where it already read "President." Another workman used a sledgehammer on the wall of the office. In the meantime, Dean grinned malevolently. His asshat of a boss was going through so much, practically for nothing since he was going to get whacked in the end. It felt great for him just to know that! Later that afternoon, he went to the bank and carefully withdrew as much cash as he could possibly could.
Hey! Gotta gotta pay back! (The big payback)
Revenge! I'm mad (the big payback)
Got to get back! Need some get back! Pay Back! (the big payback)
That's it! Payback! Revenge!
I'm mad!
Get down with my girlfriend, That ain't right!
Hollarin' cussin', you wanna fight
Payback is a thing you gotta see
Brother do any damn thing to me
Meanwhile at Bischoff Chemicals, Garrett was locked inside of his office with tons of drugs and attractive women with the lights flashing many colors, as they did naughty and dirty things. Roman had seen this from his desk and moments later, looked up to see Garrett open his office door and lead out two obvious hookers. With white powder around his nostrils, he spotted Roman watching him and he sneered back in reply, smiling devilishly. That cokehead boss of his wouldn't spend too much more time partying it up. At least, not if Roman could help it. At the end of the day, he'd headed to the outside ATM, where like Dean, withdrew as much cash as possible.
Sold me out, for chump change (yes you did!)
Told me that they, they had it all arranged
You handed me down, and thats a fact
Now you're pumped, You gotta get ready For the big payback! (the big payback!)
That's where I am, the big payback (the big payback!)
I can do wheelin', I can do dealin' (yes you can!) But I don't do no damn
squealin'
I can dig rappin', I'm ready! I can dig scrappin'
But I can't dig that backstabbin' (Oh No!)
At the dental office, Seth was placing tooth X-rays into plastic contact sheets...all while Kelly was busy licking his neck and tweaking his nipples through his scrubs. In contrast to earlier, Seth appeared to be unfazed and almost amused by Kelly's antics. After all, after today, the oversexed bitch wouldn't be putting her hands all over him anymore. And most of all, he was looking forward to less office-raping from her, too. Yeah, that was a huge plus. At the end of his day, Seth, clad in a black hoodie and sunglasses, cautiously approached an ATM in 7-11, withdrawing as much cash as he could while trying not to look suspicous for anyone else in attendance. For those who glanced at him funny, he shrugged at them in reply and quickly rushed out of the building.
The brother get ready! Thats a fact!
Get ready you Mother, for the big payback (The big Payback!)
Let me hit 'em hit'em! Hey Hey! WOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Later that night, the three arrived at the bar again and had handed the suitcase to Motherfucker Jones, who sat across from them. When he opened the briefcase, it was empty, except for a single stack of taped together $20 bills.
"Looks like it's all here." he announced, closing the suitcase.
"Turns out we didn't really need the suitcase after all. Could've just used a manila envelope..." Seth began.
"Shut up, Seth." Roman muttered.
"All right, so what is your projected outside date of completion, Motherfucker?" asked Dean.
"I just come back from doing a dime. Some really nasty shit."
"That's ten years." Roman whispered to his friends.
"I know what it is." Seth whispered back.
MF continued, "They're looking at me, I'm on probation. And if I set out of line, I'm going back."
He nodded. "Alright."
"Understood." Dean agreed.
Then, there was an awkward silence across the room.
"Period? End of story? I mean, what is that?" Seth muttered in confusion.
"Wait, I thought you said you were gonna take care of this." Roman replied.
"Yeah, I'll take care of it." he indicated for them to lean closer. "I'm going to be your murder consultant."
Seth quickly shook his head. "I'm sorry, but uh...no, man! Alright? That's not cool."
"Will you shut this fuckin' hamster up?"
Dean snickered while Rollins cried, "I'm a hamster now? Come on!"
"Easy! Easy! Easy!" Roman cried.
"Shush! It's upsetting." Rollins whined.
He eyed him down. "It's...it's...it's somewhat accurate. Now look, that's not what we talked about, Motherfucker. Alright, so, how about we just take the money and we get out of here?"
"How about you go fuck yourself? No refunds."
"That's five thousand fucking dollars. If you think we're just gonna walk out of here and let you keep that..." Dean began, but froze once Jones put his hand in his jacket pocket and moved as if to threaten to shoot them. They gasped.
"Jesus!" Roman cried.
"Listen, Motherfucker, please? Don't shoot us. Let's just talk it out." Seth cried frantically.
"Listen, five thousand is mine. I don't care what you say. Now, you can take my advice or you can get the fuck out of here."
"That's a terrible deal!"
"We should listen to him, okay?" Roman coaxed him. "Go on, man."
"All right, now most killers are first timers. You wanna pull off a brilliant murder, you gotta act like it's an accident. Failed breaks. Gas leaks. Suicide. Okay, if you do it right, you ain't even gotta be there when it goes down."
Dean's eyes widened a bit. "Well, shit! That's...that's five...that's five grand and we're done?"
"You got that straight."
"That's kind of obvious. Kind of obvious information, isn't it?" Seth muttered.
"Sounds like some Scooby-Doo type of shit here! How are we supposed to fake three accidents?" asked Ambrose.
"You stalk your prey. You gotta be smart. Find out where they live. Find out their habits. What's their hobbies, what they like. What type of food they like. Find out who they're fucking."
"Huh..." Roman trailed off.
"Find them vulnerable."
"Uh-Uh, I have a job-yeah, we're way too busy with work..." the three rambled at once.
MF continued, "Even if you pulled it off perfectly, if you dudes got motives, the po-po..."
"That means police." Roman whispered quickly.
"...will still penny to you."
"We all have clear motives for killing our bosses. So this is not gonna work. This is garbage!" Dean cried.
He pondered for a moment.
"I got it. Why don't you kill each other's bosses?"
The three exchanged hopeful, impressed looks. Roman spoke up first. "That's...actually a good idea."
Dean nodded along. "Not bad."
"Yeah. Yeah. Like Hitchcock's 'Strangers on a Train', right?"
"I haven't seen that. Did they..."
"The Danny DeVito movie. It's funny." Seth replied.
"Yeah. Yeah. That famous Alfred Hitchcock, Danny DeVito movie. That's the one he's..." Reigns sarcastically began, slapping Rollins on the back of the head. "Come on!"
"What?" he whined.
"Come on! You're thinking of Throw Momma from the Train."
He nodded along. "That's what it is."
"That. That I saw, that's a good movie." Dean chuckled along.
"But it's the same idea, basically! If we kill each other's bosses, there's no link to us." Roman nodded.
"Exactly. Five thousand dollars well spent, right?" agreeed MF.
"Uh, ...no. No, waste of money, actually." the three muttered.
"Well, too fuckin' bad." he grabbed the suitcase and rushed out of the booth. "Get out."